


Maybe

by Hibernia1



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, Gen, Jim is dead as a doornail, Poinsettia, sad but hopeful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5515088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibernia1/pseuds/Hibernia1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas Eve. Sebastian goes with Richard to visit Jim's grave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> I promised myself not to start posting Moriarty-fics. I was wrong.

It was ringing, so at least his phone wasn’t turned off. But that didn’t mean anything, usually it went straight to voicemail and leaving a message about anything that wasn’t a dire emergency was totally useless. 

“Yeah?” 

Richard breathed out in relief. He’d gotten through.

“Sebastian?”

“What?”

“Come over on the 25th? I’m cooking.”

Silence.

“Seb?”

“I’m… I have to work.”

“Well, cancel. Say you’re unavailable. That you got a better offer. It’s not like you need the money.”

“I’ll be in a terrible mood. I’ll just ruin your Christmas. I mean, thanks for the offer, but…”

“Who said anything about Christmas? I just said ‘the 25th’. I don’t expect you to be in a good mood. You can sit on the couch and get drunk on cheap whiskey for all I care. Just, come over. I’ve got way too much food.”

That was a lie, he hadn’t even made a shopping list yet.

“You never get cheap whiskey.”

“I will if you come over. Or I might do us both a favour and get the good stuff.”

Silence.

“Seb?”

A groan. 

“What does that mean?”

“Shit. What time?”

“Two-ish.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Great. You still like those ginger biscuits?”

“I do, yeah. Want me to bring anything?”

“Just yourself will do. See you then, Sebastian.”

“See you, Rich.”

Richards nodded happily to his phone and started making a list. He’d get Sebastian a present for under the tree, too. Then his phone rang and he frowned. ‘Moran’, it said on the screen.

“Please don’t cancel already.”

“No, I said I’ll be there, so I’ll be there. I wanted to ask you something.”

“Ok?”

“Are you going to his grave again this Christmas Eve?”

“Yes. I bought him a poinsettia, a huge red one.”

“He hated plants. Hell, he hated Christmas.”

Richard had to swallow before he could answer.

“Well, he didn’t when we were kids. And even if you’re right, I’m still bringing him a poinsettia. He doesn’t get a say anymore.”

“Ok, sorry… so, anyway… can I come with you?”

Richard stared at the phone in amazement.

“Come again?”

“Can I come with you, is what I said.”

“Of course. Pick me up around four?”

“Will do. See you, Rich.”

The next day, at four PM on the dot, a car horn blared outside. Richard wasn’t exactly ready yet, but he threw on his coat, grabbed the large plant and a scarf and hurled himself down the stairs. Sebastian was waiting across the street, sitting in an old Range Rover and smoking, his arm outside the window. When he saw Richard coming through the door he threw away his cigarette and pulled up.

“Careful, it’s slippery.”

“Yes, I noticed, thanks. Hi, Seb.”

“Hi.”

That was all they said until they reached the nondescript graveyard where Jim’s unmarked grave was. It had taken Sebastian ages to find out where the police had buried him after the whole disaster on the roof, and at first both him and Richard had only visited the graveyard at night, climbing the walls. But some years had passed, and they were almost certain Jim’s grave wasn’t under surveillance anymore. Last year Richard had told Sebastian he’d visited Jim on Christmas Eve and for some reason that had stuck in Sebastian’s mind – and made him ask to come too this year.

Richard wrapped his scarf around him. It was cold, wet and windy, and, like Sebastian had said, slippery. Richard almost went down as soon as they were through the gates, slipping on some ice. Sebastian caught him by his arm.

“Thanks.”

“Welcome. Watch your step.”

“I am… I was always the clumsy one.”

Sebastian nodded absently. They walked to the grave. Richard put the plant near the small wooden cross.

“Jim. Hi. I brought you a plant. And I brought Seb too.”

He glanced at Sebastian, who was staring at the clouds whirling by. Richard sighed, and turned to the grave again.

“He’s coming over tomorrow, too. I’m cooking. Lamb stew. It’ll be nice.”

He briefly touched the cross with his fingertips.

“I miss you. I miss you so much. Merry Christmas.”

He turned abruptly and started walking to the gates, leaving Sebastian.

Richard was leaning against the car when Sebastian joined him again a few minutes later. His face was wet.

“It’s just the rain,” he said, before Sebastian could even open his mouth.

“Weather’s a bitch.”

“Yes. Can you drop me off at the nearest tube station?”

“I’ll drop you off at your flat.”

“I don’t have a huge plant with me now and it’s miles out of your way.”

“I’ll drop you off at your flat. Are you hard of hearing?”

Richard smiled at that.

“Ok then. Thanks.”

They drove in silence. Sebastian dropped Richard off in front of his building and walked him to the door so he wouldn’t slip and fall.

“See you tomorrow. Thanks for letting me come,” he then said, unexpectedly. Richard was still staring at the place where the large car had been when Sebastian was long gone. Then he smiled, briefly, and went in. Maybe Christmas would just be bearable this year.


End file.
